Nature Deficit Disorder?

Anne Hogenboom recently gave me an article from The New York Times (April 28, page F1).  It was essentially a book review for Richard Louv’s book:  “Last Child in the Woods:  Saving Our Children From Nature Deficit Disorder” (Algonquin Books).  Nothing new to me; I regularly see kids with Nature Deficit Disorder at Mariton.  But it is still troubling.

Because of our adult paranoia, and our love for structure, kids don’t get to spend free time outdoors.  Some kids don’t spend any time out of doors.  So, the outdoors becomes a foreign place that actually causes nervousness and discomfort.  It amazes me how much kids know about nature.  Unfortunately, most of it is learned from the television or computer; and that is where they would rather view it.  Flowers have no scent on the computer screen.  While you have a great view and hear that scarlet tanager, you don’t get to search for it yourself.  Picking out its song when there are 30 other bird species all singing loudly to declare their territory, is something you don’t experience on the nature shows.

Growing up, the outdoors was my great motivator.  When homework was finished, I was free until supper.  There was a 20 acre marsh, 60 acres of fallow fields, and a short hike to a red maple swamp, or a pine/oak forest.  I fell out of trees.  I lost shoes in the muck (actually I always retrieved them – going home with a muddy shoe was better than no shoe).  I capsized my homemade rafts into an algae-covered, mosquito infested, smelly marsh.  I fell through the ice many times, and walked home with frozen clothes.  I got poison ivy and chiggers, scrapes and bruises.  I encountered hunters.  I survived.

At the time, I didn’t know that I was playing in a red maple swamp, or a cattail marsh.  I probably didn’t know any bird names other than blue jays, robins and ducks.  But I knew that I loved being outside, and the names came later.

So, don’t read Mr. Louv’s wonderful book.  Stop reading my web log.  Instead, find a kid and take them outside. Lie in the grass and watch the clouds, or the stars, or the bugs, or the birds overhead.  Go for a walk.  You don’t have to know the name of a flower to enjoy its beauty.  Close your eyes and listen to the birds, the bugs, the wind, even the rain.  It won’t hurt as much as you think.  It might even feel good.